


Waiting for Voldemort

by davidwelch158



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29292909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davidwelch158/pseuds/davidwelch158
Summary: A conversation in the Little Hangleton graveyard.
Relationships: Bartemius Crouch Jr. & Peter Pettigrew





	Waiting for Voldemort

Two dead men met in an old graveyard, a maze of crypts and sepulchres, squatting in a valley under the gaze of a broken down old house. In a circle of witchlight, they sat on tumbled tombstones, black teeth jutting from the earth; outside the circle, monsters prowled.

Barty Crouch Junior arched his back luxuriously, the vertebrae popping. "Fuck! When I'm on it, I feel like I'm coiled up inside him somehow, no room to stretch."

Beside him, Peter Pettigrew flicked his cigarette butt away, a bright star arcing into the darkness. "You're a beautiful butterfly, waiting in his chrysalis."

Crouch ignored him. "And the sweat that accumulates on that leg joint and around the eye socket. Scabby old bastard!" He eyed his companion, "I suppose you'd know about that, feeling trapped?"

Pettigrew shrugged. "'s alright. The older, prissy one actually wanted me, fuck knows why, then he got an owl."

"I bet you got an eyeful sometimes though, boys or girls, whichever type you fancy."

"Fuck you! Plus you don't see the same way, different position of the eyes and the rat's brain notices different things."

"You were just checking if they had any cheese hidden away!" Crouch laughed at his own joke then lowered his voice. "Seriously though, never? You just closed your eyes?"

"Never! Though once the girl, the youngest, picked me up and put me on her," he made a vague hand gesture. "I think she expected me to vibrate or some shit." Pettigrew scowled at Crouch's expression. "Fuck you! It was fucking terrifying. I didn't know what to do."

"Lucky it wasn't the Mum! Seven kids, you could've slipped in and suffocated."

There was a beat of silence then Pettigrew asked: "The boss," he waved his hand towards the enclosing darkness, "put me under the Imperio once, just to see how noticeable it was to other people. Is it always like that? Do you ever get bored?"

Crouch signed. "Never! It's like floating in a warm ocean forever, like eating a big meal, like just after you cum, like... You're boneless, jelly and you love it. 'course the old man only wanted me to sit quietly and stay out of sight, he probably regretted he hadn't started it when I was born. In the war, we used to make fathers rape their daughters, and they'd remember enjoying it. Fucks you up!"

"Do you ever wish...?"

"'course I do. But later I could feel the boss," he rubbed his left forearm, "feel his anger. Kept knocking me out of the spell."

"Oh."

"That's right. He'll never let you do it; him, both of them really, want your soul too. Like the Muggle carpenter: 'love God with all your heart and strength, blah, blah.'"

"I know what you mean. Your dad," Pettigrew paused, looking uncertain, but Crouch shook his head. "Your dad, if I tell him to clean a room, he'll keep going till he wears the floorboards down, till he faints from hunger. Fucking exhausting, keeping track of him. We'd do better with a true believer."

"Not many of them left! Heh, perhaps afterwards he'll give you Malfoy, make him clean the floor with his hair, fucking prick. You remember when we told him about the diary. Fucking hates him now."

"Wasn't so funny afterwards, he got tired of talking about cursing Malfoy and started cursing me."

"Sorry."

"'s okay."

Crouch levered himself to his feet. "I've still got sixty essays to mark, half of them Mudbloods, don't know which end of a wand to hold. Let's go over the plan."

"I don't-"

"You do. It's gotta be precise. You don't want to be sitting there with the baby and the cauldron and your dick hanging out your trousers when the verger comes by to mow the grass."

"Alright. You send me a Patronus when Potter's ten minutes away and I'll bring out the stuff; then again just before and I'll be in position to stun him."

"Not stun, fuckwit. He has to be awake for the spell and to see. Not much fucking point having an eyewitness who's asleep."

"Alright. And the Portkey goes back too? I just wait for Potter to grab it?"

"Try to sort of levitate the cup so he falls on it. The general's hoping the boss uses the killing curse. Apparently Baby Potter's armoured with love or some crap, it'll just knock him out."

"And the boss when he disappears?"

"Just tell him I had to insert an extra destination because of regulations. Advantage of him growing up a Muggle, he'll believe any fucking thing about the Ministry."

"Okay."

"Really okay? I can try to get here first."

"No. Yes. I mean, Potter's so young. He used to feed me bacon."

Crouch shrugged. "He's the one who benefits in the end. You've seen how things have gone under Fudge. There's gotta be a war, sweep away the old farts on both sides."

"Fine. I'll do it." Pettigrew stood up too. "If we don't... I mean if I don't speak to you again. I want to know, how'd the general get you? I sort of fell into it, James and Sirius wanted to join up so I did. But I couldn't fight so he said why not be a spy."

"Same, I guess. I wanted change so he said even it means your death? Stupid kid, thought I'd be a martyr, said yes. But if you can die for the cause, isn't it the same to kill for it? And if you can kill an enemy then you can lie to one too, right, and if you can lie to an enemy why not lie to a friend? Slippery slope. Then you end up here." Crouch spread his arms to encompass the crumbling gravestones around him.

Pettigrew nodded and, stepping forward, Crouch embraced him briefly before letting go and disapparating with a crack of in-rushing air.

One dead man in a graveyard.


End file.
